


Den of Iniquity

by yujacheong



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Biting, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Identity Porn, M/M, Mos Eisley, One Night Stands, Pre-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/pseuds/yujacheong
Summary: Luke has a diverting one-night stand with a man he meets in a Mos Eisley cantina.“You can call me Jango.”“Jango.” Luke echoed both the name and the grin as he too got to his feet. The attraction between them was electric. “I’m Luke. Local boy, at your service.”
Relationships: Boba Fett/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 219
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Den of Iniquity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wiccy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiccy/gifts).



“Mos Eisley spaceport: you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious,” old Ben Kenobi had told him.

That had been four years ago. Practically a lifetime ago.

Now, though, Luke had returned to Tatooine to stake out Mos Eisley spaceport. He awaited the arrival of Boba Fett, the bounty hunter entrusted with the delivery of Han Solo, frozen in carbonite, to Jabba the Hutt. The hope was that he’d be able to intercept the delivery before it happened and rescue his friend.

But there’d been no sign of Fett as of yet, and he’d been on stakeout in and around the spaceport for several weeks already. As such, Luke had had plenty of time to evaluate Ben’s dim assessment of the place for himself. And as far as Luke was concerned? Ben, he concluded, had been absolutely, 110 per cent correct. Mos Eisley spaceport really _was_ a wretched hive of scum and villainy – a veritable den of iniquity.

“A glass of milk, please,” Luke said to the bartender.

The barkeeper nodded in distracted acknowledgement as he pushed quickly past where Luke was sitting. The suns were setting, and the cantina was filling up with folks looking for some supper. Luke hadn’t merited a second glance, which was all to the good – the point was to blend in and otherwise go unnoticed –

“Wow. You sure do like to live dangerously, don’t you?”

Luke had developed too much self-control to react with visible surprise to the unexpected criticism of his drinks order or the equally unexpected hand which fell onto his shoulder, and the last thing he was going to do in any case was rise to the casual provocation from a stranger. The low profile he’d been cultivating would be vaporized to atoms in an instant. “Best blue milk in the galaxy,” Luke said neutrally. “I always make a point of ordering a glass when I’m on Tatooine.”

“You don’t say? Never heard that one before,” the man said as he claimed the empty seat to Luke’s left and sat down.

How odd. There was _something_ about this man…something prodding Luke in the Force, insisting that he take notice, drawing him…

Luke studied the man surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. The man was human, with a swarthy complexion and handsome, regular features. Comfortable, utilitarian clothing of decent quality and a blaster worn openly on his hip. The blaster was well-oiled, and the trigger was shiny from frequent use – it was clearly not just for show. He was perhaps a decade older than Luke. And he was a stranger.

“I grew up on Tatooine,” Luke said, shrugging. “I might be biased.”

“I see. I’m not. I’m not from here, that is,” the man said. “Tatooine is just a short stopover, but I thought I’d try taking in some of the local… _flavor_ before the next job.” By ‘local flavor’ the man wasn’t referring to the blue milk. He was looking at Luke, his gaze sweeping down Luke’s body and back up again, and the heat of his expression told Luke in no uncertain terms that he clearly liked what he saw.

Four years ago, Luke would’ve blushed at being so openly propositioned. But that was four years ago – practically a lifetime ago – and Luke had learned a lot about how to comport himself in dens of iniquity like the Mos Eisley spaceport. And besides, the suns were setting, and planetfall landings were embargoed after dark, which meant he was free to do whatever he liked till morning. Luke met the man’s gaze straight on with a heated expression of his own. “Would you care for a, ahem, _guided tour_ , Mister…uh…?”

The man grinned as he rose from his seat. “You can call me Jango.”

“Jango.” Luke echoed both the name and the grin as he too got to his feet. The attraction between them was electric. “I’m Luke. Local boy, at your service.”

Luke canceled his blue milk order.

They took a room above the cantina for the night. Jango paid with a fistful of shiny, unmarked credits. And they were on each other before the door had slid fully shut.

Jango was a skillful, enthusiastic kisser, licking, nipping, and sucking at Luke’s lips until Luke was wobbling and Jango was practically holding him upright.

“I want to fuck you, pretty boy,” Jango murmured, the edges of his teeth catching on the curve of Luke’s ear as he sank them into the soft cartilage.

“Fuck me,” Luke moaned, the pleasure-pain of Jango’s bite rocketing down his spine and into his loins. He twined his arms around Jango’s neck, pushed his already aching erection into Jango’s thigh, and moaned louder at the answering hardness prodding his belly.

Luke felt Jango’s lips curl into a smile against bob of his Adam’s apple, and then Jango lifted Luke up off the ground. Luke giggled, surprised and pleased, and twined his legs around Jango’s waist as Jango carried him to bed.

Things proceeded quite rapidly after that, clothes discarded haphazardly in piles all around them. Luke trembled, clenching and releasing impatiently as Jango prepared him. And when Jango pushed his cock into him, a single, surging slide to the hilt, and claimed him more roughly and more comprehensively than anyone else ever had, Luke lifted his hips to meet every pounding impact half way. Jango fucked him like a master, his sweet spot inside stroked on each perfect inward thrust. They devoured each other for what seemed like hours, limbs tangled as they undulated together, raking and clawing at each other with their fingernails as their desperation intensified. And when at last, at long, long last, Luke let go and came, pulsing hot and wet between them, he wasn’t even touching himself.

By the time Luke awakened next morning, somewhat scratched and bruised and still pleasantly sore in all the right places, Jango was already gone. That wasn’t a surprise, and Luke hadn’t been expecting anything beyond a one-night stand.

What _did_ surprise him was the handwritten note on a torn piece of flimsi lying on the pillow next to him, in the depression where Jango’s head had so recently been.

_Thanks! You’re a great fuck, Skywalker. See you again soon at Jabba’s palace?_

Luke swore. ‘Jango’ was _Boba Fett_. He’d missed his chance; that meant his stakeout of the Mos Eisley spaceport had come to an end. He’d have to comm Leia, Lando, and the rest – time to move on to Plan B.


End file.
